But Who Will Comfort Lady When She Cries'
by TeaLogic
Summary: Merfolk AU. Aveline is sent to Boston to hunt down a ruthless Captain. She didn't bet on getting help from a merman. Nor falling in love with him. Oneshot. [Connorline]. TW for mild violence and drowning.


A/N: In a bit of a 'REWRITE ALL THE ABDONED SHIPPY FICS' kind of mood. Hopefully it will wear off soon, because I have about 30 of them and absolutely no time for them.

Be warned, this is ridiculously fluffy. Even I'm surprised at the amount of it. Also I closed the age gap considerably because I couldn't have Aveline at 22 otherwise. Not that merfolk 'age' specifically in my canon...

* * *

><p><em>When her father taught her about merfolk for the first time, she was a little girl on holiday in Boston. She could hear the waves and saw a thin strip of blue clashing with the grey sky from her window in the room she stayed in. She had pulled him away from his work, whinging about boredom until he opened his mouth and told her stories about the people who lived in the sea. He made them sparkle and dance in her mind, mysterious creatures with mischievous eyes and long hair and charm. He told her he'd seen them, he'd seen beautiful mermaids that sang to him. He would be overdramatic and clutch his heart as if a mermaid had once wrenched it from his ribs. She would stare, wide eyed and besotted with the dream. Tails flashed and vague smiles brought her into the deep.<em>

_Aveline's father kissed her on her little nose and she giggled. _

"_Did you marry her Papa? The mermaid?"_

"_Ah my child," He turned to his maps, the tables of figures, "merfolk only love the sea." _

_She wasn't really listening. She wanted merfolk to be real. She wanted to see one. She wanted to see one for several months afterwards. Until one day she overheard one of her father's client's talking about pirates and that was suddenly _much more interesting.

_Still, it would be mermaids she would sketch in her teenage years. When her father had died and all she had left was her tutor in death. A tail would curl around her written work on Assassins past; a merman with long hair would stare at her until Agate snatched the paper away in irritation- A silly fantasy not applicable in New Orleans._

"Focus, Aveline!"

* * *

><p>A sharp inhale and she jolts awake, pain tearing up her spine. Her wrists are tied in front of her with chains that cut into her skin. She's lying on her side. Her face is swollen, left cheek squashed flat against the cold deck and it throbs in protest, making her whole head thump and ache in rhythm with her fast heartbeat. The ship bobs on point with the rough motion of the sea. The night air rolls right through her and she feels sick with the movement. The continual drizzle of rain whilst she was unconscious rain has soaked her clothes.<p>

There is no sound to be had on deck. She is alone. There is only the noise of her ragged breathing and the sea slapping at the hull.

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block the pain and wills herself to centre her mind.

* * *

><p><em>It takes a few more years until Aveline is back in Boston during an early summer and this time her memories of her father and merfolk are buried as deep as the sea itself. She is an Assassin now. Blades adorn her wrist rather than gems. A practical tricorn hat smothers her braids. Eyes are ringed with dark circles from a serial lack of sleep and scars lace her skin. It was not what her father would have wanted. She knows that and it hurts her. But she can do nothing else. She has now turned twenty-two and she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. So much is wrong with this world and the work must start somewhere, hunting the bandits and wrongdoers. She walks the docks of Boston and sees corruption and pain. All the death and misery. She must hunt these afflictions out and kill them. Burn out the infections. <em>

_She recognises the ship from its striking figurehead. While not knowing the slightest thing about them, she can tell that this ship has certain majesty over the others docked here. It's like an aura or perhaps a presence. Aveline lightly steps her right foot on to the deck of the Aquila, a letter from Achilles Davenport to her mentor Agaté in her hand. A letter of validation. She waves it at a boy who runs up to meet her, who makes a great deal of scrutinising it although Aveline is fairly sure that he'll have no idea what it contains. _

"_You'll be wanting Mr Faulkner miss, here-"_

_She shakes her head slightly at the title, but ignores it and follows the scrawny child up to the ship's wheel. She is stared at as she strolls across the deck. As unflattering her Assassin attire is she knows she possesses, as Gérald nervously put it, 'natural advancements'. She acts though as if she does not notice. It serves well to feign ignorance, to offer a false sense of security even to people she should think of as her allies._

_She wonders at why there was no 'Captain' attached to the man she needs to see. She gets her answer when the boy points silently to a man hovering over a table near to the wheel, muddling at a bunch of papers. Mr Faulkner is not what she expected. He is hitting the horizon of his forties, with grey temples and an iron look to match. He is clearly not the Captain, judging from the clothes on his back. But obviously well respected. Quartermaster perhaps. She clears her throat to get his attention._

_He looks up and simply stares. Aveline is quick to hand him the letter. _

"_My name is Aveline. I was sent here upon Master Davenport's request upon him writing to my mentor last week."_

_If he's surprised, then he hides it well. He scans the letter, casts an eye over Aveline for a fleeting second and then gives a grim smile. He is as quick as she is._

"_Captain Nicholas Biddle is your man."_

_She nods, recollecting the intelligence Agate sent her. "I have heard of him. A naval officer and a wealthy merchant on paper."_

"_Aye, but a prominent member of the Templar order. He's been picking us off, one by one, as if we were sitting targets on a field. It's why we asked for one of you, an unknown."_

_Aveline considers her next question carefully, hoping that it sounds more concerned than derogatory. "How is it you are so easily ensnared?"_

_Faulkner seems to understand. He sweeps a hand over the docks, a painful expression on his face. "He has a tight grip on this area, _nothing _goes unnoticed by him. Every ship, every route, even down to cabin boys- he knows everyone here." He sighs, "Obviously his Templar mates are an enormous help..."_

"_I will get this man, you have my word."_

_He wasn't cheered by her words, a depressed noise escaping him. "I hope you do, Aveline. He killed our Captain two weeks ago. We found his corpse the next day. His mentor... well, she was devastated."_

_She feels that there is nothing she can say, so she makes to leave. However as she turns Faulkner unexpectedly puts a hand on her shoulder._

"_One more thing, because I think it's important. It... It is about those who have been killed."_

_His eyes are imploring, as if he is worried Aveline will brush him off, not want to hear. She lifts her head, looking at him in the eye. "Go on."_

"_Well, they go into the town, they go missing- and obviously we expect the worst. But then—"He cuts himself off and Aveline has to bite down on her irritation. What she thought was a short mission was clearly a much more dangerous enterprise. What else could be worse?_

"_Yes, Mr Faulkner?"_

"_Well... we find them. We're not meant to, but we do. We find them on the shores near the docks. Stone dead and waterlogged but somehow landing in a different grave." His voice cracks and unconsciously he squeezes her shoulder. Aveline softens. Biddle's plights have clearly taken their toll on him, made him suffer much. All it did for her was adding to her growing apprehension._

_Suddenly uncomfortable with his sorrow, she casts her eyes out to the horizon. "You mean to say..."_

"_Someone is taking the effort to drag these poor bastards out of the sea after they meet their death. I'm telling you this because I would say that person is worth your time just as much as Biddle is."_

* * *

><p>She can't hear Biddle's voice at all. There are but a few lamps near her, offering only small pinpoints of light. He must have gone below deck, probably plotting her end. The cold becomes more apparent. They've taken her jacket alongside her weapons. <em>Salauds<em>. Even for a Templar, Biddle was beyond their usual standard of ruthlessness. No morals or pride whatsoever. How his own brethren tolerated him, Aveline will never know.

As far as she can tell, it is only the blow to her head that she has to deal with... Probably to keep her quiet and less of a bother. That in itself is ominous though. Biddle most likely is after information, it was why he had killed so many Assassin's before she and Connor had—

Oh hell. _Connor—_

* * *

><p><em>She is surrounded. It was a classic mistake, to attempt to take out Biddle from his stronghold. Faulkner was right, he really did have eyes and ears everywhere. Fitting that his house is on top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. As she runs blindly though his overly ornate gardens she can hear Agaté's derision in her mind, his voice calling her stupid over and over. She can hear pistol shots and dogs barking behind her and she forces her legs to run faster, almost tripping. She skids to a sudden halt with a multitude of swearing. She's reached the end of the cliff. She assess quickly, Boston harbour is in the distance, glittering in the night. Too far, surely. She'll never reach it. She can't climb down for the rock face is far too smooth. Besides Biddle would use her for target practice. <em>Merde.

_She shakes her head as the noise of the barking gets louder. A leap of faith is her only way out of this, but she knows the likelihood that she'll fatally injure herself is very real. She's never dived from such a height, and training in the swamps of New Orleans means that her swimming skills aren't the greatest. She hesitates, toes peeking over the edge, until a shot that is inches from her feet forces her to act._

_She is too panicked as she leaps off the edge and hits the water with a sickly splash. Lucky as she was to miss the rocks, she is suspended and sinking fast. Pain is shooting up and down her spine and the breath is utterly knocked out of her. She attempts to move, hands making a pathetic clawing motion as if attempting to take hold of rungs on a ladder. Somehow she makes it to the surface but she barely exhales before the weight of her clothes and the soreness of her body drag her back under. This time the salt water attacks her senses more violently and she cannot fight it, choking. _

_She doesn't notice how she sinks backwards into a pair of open arms. She's not aware of anyone until she forcibly inhales air and bursts into a series of coughing fits, spitting out the water. Her mind reels, wondering how the hell she was brought to surface when she takes note of the arms encircling her, keeping her afloat. When she's stilled her coughing, they push her onto her back, her legs dangling in the water. She is too out of it to do anything about it, she's just grateful to be breathing._

_The sense of movement is a total blur. In the darkness she cannot see who is holding her, and she is too numb to make any attempt to turn. Her eyes slid shut. Time passes in measures she knows nothing of and suddenly the sensation of solid ground is beneath her. It sits into her skin. Sand. She is ashore somehow._

_Hands flutter over her, a movement she recognises from her personal history as someone checking for injuries. Something cool and smooth brushes against her left side and it unnerves her. She twists and turns and attempts to rise despite the ache that flushes through her body as the numbness of the cold water wears off. Those same hands that handled her press lightly on her shoulders, large and comforting. They're as cool as the sensation running up her side._

"_Lie still; you may have injured your back."_

_She opens her eyes at the sound of a deep, melodic voice muttering low in her ear. Stunned, she opens her eyes to see the outline of a man hovering over her. She notices the eyes first, a profound, dark brown, squinting at her. She moves down to his naked, muscled torso, where small slits line his sides and skin suddenly gives way to scales and then—_

_The world slams back into full motion when she sees it. From his torso, sitting in the sand and resting up her side, is a tail. It is a dazzling blue, the large scales reflecting dully in the moonlight. Towards the end the scales splay out in an arc, a brighter blue than the rest of the tail. It's making small flicking notions, almost as if in irritation._

_She gasps. She knows what she sees in front of her, and it is a merman. _

_She looks at him again and they stare at each other for a split second. Something like fear clouds his eyes. He doesn't speak before he turns away and makes to move off. Hazy as her mind is, something spurs her to act. To claim evidence that this is happening. She grips at the merman's arms once more, fingers clutching around a bangle amidst many that adorn his wrists. She slips it off and he doesn't notice, making shushing noises, thinking she is still distressed. With what little strength she has, she clutches the bangle tightly, trying to cover it completely. Exhausted and in pain, does she finally give herself over to blessed unconsciousness._

_It seems but a fleeting relief as she wakes on the same beach, the extent of her injuries felt with full force. She groans pitifully as she recognises she is being shaken by a hand on her shoulder. She is shivering with the cold, even though the sand is warm around her._

_Could it be—?_

"_Aveline!" _

_Faulkner. She blinks in the strong morning sunlight and sees his outline drop in relief, "I thought Biddle had got to you."_

_Sitting up with extreme difficulty, she eyes the shore around her wearily, coughing weakly. "He tried. Trust me."_

"_How did you get away?"_

_She slaps a hand to her head, trying to recollect, when she realises stones are imbedding themselves into her forehead. Her eyes go wide as she remembers and quickly she draws her hand away. Faulkner looks at her oddly. Hopefully he will just think it is the behaviour of a concussed mind, that he wouldn't have seen the flash of silver peeking out—_

"_Must have had someone watching over me."_

"_I'll say. Look, let me escort you back to your quarters at least. Get a doctor to look at you..."_

_He helps her up and towards their base. Only when she is alone in her room, in completely dry clothes and with the doctor come and gone, does she finally stretch out her palm which is red with the effort of holding the object she refused to let go of all day._

_In her hand, dotted with green gemstones, lies a large silver bangle._

_She holds it up to the light from her window in a triumph._

* * *

><p>Concentrating hard, Aveline slowly rolls onto her back and then on to her other side, facing the deck. Her head still beats in protest against any movement, involuntarily causing her to let out a small whimper of pain. The first thing she sees is the ships wheel and beyond that, very little. The night is thick and the lamps are not all lit below. Something tells her deep down to the very core of her senses that that there are some of Biddle's men patrolling towards the bow. And if they are patrolling, it means they're watching for something. Or watching over someone...<p>

Using her legs, she crawls on her belly towards the edge of the balcony in order to peek between the bars and peer out below on the main deck.

* * *

><p><em>She tries to forget what she saw over the next few days, but it is a fruitless effort. He drifts in and out of her thoughts. He had such amazing eyes and they are following her around in the back of her mind. She cannot concentrate on anything. Not even the reports on Biddle's shipping activities which were delivered by Faulkner with a huge smile on his weathered face. <em>

_It's hard to smile back. Faulkner may have thought that Aveline now knows how to get rid of Biddle, but she knows that he appears to be utterly untouchable. He was surrounded by physical brute force but also whispers that gave him the information he needed to take people down. Granted, any whispers about her are probably mute, given that he most likely thinks her dead. It works in her favour for now though. _

_Still, it is not enough. She cannot walk around in disguise forever. Besides she would never find out a weak spot that way. It was almost as if she needed ears below the planks on the docks—_

_She rejects the idea to start with. How on earth would she reach her saviour? It is then she feels for the bangle tucked within her jacket, a testament that her memory of the night was a solid one instead of a saltwater hallucination. Wasn't it recorded in those old fairy tales that merfolk valued their treasure? Maybe even if it was all complete rubbish, he might still want it back._

_Besides, she had nothing else to go on. The next day she adorns herself in one of her richest day dresses and ventures out onto the Boston harbour. She walks as a lady, the bangle clearly glittering on her wrist for everyone to see. She walks up and down the docks, close to the edges, looking for the all the world as if she cared about nothing while people moved out of her way. A few snarky comments about the colour of her skin catch her, but this time she is too preoccupied to deal with them. She moves to the sea shore, where it is mostly empty save for a few scraggily children mucking about in the sand._

_She's always known when she's being watched. The prickly feeling of eyes upon her made her walk away from the children and towards the sharp rocks clustered together. Making sure to look as dainty as possible, she skips over the smaller boulders and gracefully sets herself down on the surface of a flatter one. The prickling sensation increases and as Aveline turns her eyes towards the horizon of the ocean from the waves nearby does his head appear. Aveline makes a small startled noise before composing herself under his disapproving look. She has the impression that he's folding his arms under the water. _

"_I'm so sorry—" _

"_It is a grave crime to steal off merfolk. I could kill you as punishment."_

_That voice of his hits her ears delightfully, and she looks at him properly. She is surprised to see that he has a young face, not much older than her own. Those eyes are still the same, but now she notices his hair, which is long and a glossy shade of brunette tied into a small pony tail. She sees the sharp cheekbones and a small flat nose and notes that, aside from the fact that he just threatened to kill her and is frowning, he looks absurdly cute._

_And good god there was more muscles on him than she remembered._

_She is too mesmerized by the fact that she has a real merman looking at her to speak for a moment. When she recalls herself, her voice is but a squeak compared to his._

"_But you won't kill me?"_

_He bows his head. "I shall not. But do not cross me again." He ducks beneath the water and suddenly vanishes. _

"_No! Don't go!" _

_Aveline is standing within seconds but her feet get caught in her dress, pitching her forward. She clutches at a rock nearby for balance and cuts her hand, but she is preoccupied with scanning the surface. She's panicking, she can't lose sight of him now, and she still has so much to say to him. She yells to the water._

"_I will jump into the sea and hold my breath until I pass out!" She sounds silly, but there is no way around this in her mind. She _has_ to see him. And somehow she knows he can hear her._

_Slowly, his head rises again from the surface and Aveline breathes a sigh of relief. That stern face has softened somewhat, and he almost looks afraid of her._

"_Please do not do that."_

"_Then stay, I want to talk to you."_

"_What do you want?" He asks, highly irritated. Well, as irritated as he can get now that he's seemingly dropped the stony facade. Aveline sits herself back down on her rock and absentmindedly wipes the blood off her hand onto her dress. Oh well. She had plenty more._

"_Your name?"_

_He looks at her hand for a brief moment. "Is that it?"_

"_It is where I'd like to start."_

_He looks bemused. "Connor..." _

"_Are you sure?"_

"_I have many. What is yours?"_

_She blinks, a little surprised at his sudden comeback. _

"_Aveline. Thank you for rescuing me a few days ago."_

"_It was no bother. Now if you do not mind, Aveline—"_

_She launches to her feet again at the slightest movement of Connor turning his head away. _

"_No wait! You can... you can help me! Please."_

_He freezes in the movement; his eyes sliding back to look at her directly in the eye. Aveline can't help but recall that night she saw him for the first time. She will not forget that look. That concerned gaze of someone who cared for another without even thinking of it._

"_Why would I help you again if you stole off me?"_

"_You wouldn't be following me around the harbour just for a bangle that you were going to let me keep anyway. Look it's important."_

_For a moment he looks like he's almost going to smile, but he apparently hides it quickly. He tilts his head and Aveline takes it as a sign he's interested. She kneels, bending forward, trying to get as close to him as possible. It's like approaching a stray cat. The hem of her dress dips into the water and Connor looks at it with fascination._

"_I've been trying to catch a man named Nicholas Biddle."_

_His eyes go wide at the name and he swims closer. Aveline tries to hide her delight, keeping her voice even._

"_He's a captain of a ship that is docked here, but I am sure he has been killing some of my brothers—"_

"_I know of him, he is utterly brutal. If you are after him, then you may have my help."_

* * *

><p>She looks out and sees three guards. Her ears catch the sound of raucousness. It's below deck. Biddle must be having a party, celebrating his great <em>find<em>. The guards themselves are apathetic either with rum or jealousy. They patrol in a formation, but they are not alert, eyes mostly at the floor. There is barely any light to be had on deck, and stacks of barrels are littered everywhere.

This was doable, even with hands tied. She stands up slowly, positioning her body and her interlinked hands carefully, getting ready to vault over the balcony. She inhales calmly, the wood under her fingertips feeling cold and slimy with the rain.

* * *

><p><em>A week later and they've set up a routine. They meet once a day to discuss Biddle's movements and try and determine a weak spot. Connor watches him from below, swimming under the docks to hear of his comings and goings, while Aveline circles the area. Together, they make a plan of where Biddle goes and at what time of the day. It is slow work, with many mishaps, but the meetings themselves have progress. They gather on a small and hidden rocky alcove, not too far actually from where Aveline jumped into the sea to avoid being shot. It is fairly easy for Aveline to climb to (now she was thankfully dressed once more in her Assassin attire) and Connor is not in danger of being spotted. He surprises her by hauling himself out of the water to sit near her, but always sticks close to the edge.<em>

_For the first couple of days it was strictly business about Biddle. But then as the days progressed, the few hours they had dissolved and so did the topics. They became much more personal. More personal than Aveline would ever believe. Not that she minded the conversations winding on longer than expected. However bad it was as an Assassin to be as distracted by him when he told her things._

_It started first when she had asked a seemingly innocent enquiry, to which he surprised her. _

"_How did you come to hear about Biddle?"_

"_My grandfather." He nods slightly at the astonished look on her face. "He will not speak of what passed. Only he said that it was forbidden to engage with him. But he is such a cruel man, I cannot let him continue."_

_Aveline came to a thought suddenly. _

"_You... it's you who has been taking the murdered men to the shore."_

_Rather than be surprised at her discovery, he became even more downcast, his eyes clouding over as they turned to the horizon. _

"_I am always too late to help them," He replied quietly, "it is the least I can do."_

_Frightened by this abrupt sadness, Aveline was quick to speak back. "You were not too late to help me."_

_A small sound escapes him which could be a hint of a laugh and he looks back at her. He dips a hand into the water, trailing his fingers. Aveline watches from above him, seated as she is again on more comfortable rocks, fascinated. They did that a lot in their talks; lull into a comfortable silence. The sea was a beautiful sound in itself, if you could tune out the bawdy noises of the nearby ships coming into harbour, their odious bells blasting through the blue sky._

"_My father believes we should not get involved, that we should move back into the deeper waters."_

_Aveline is torn between uttering what she wants to say next, but the curiosity is too much. Connor seemed so conflicted, so dejected. Granted, Biddle had caused much upset to everyone involved, but somehow Connor was more greatly affected by it. _

"_Well... I'm sorry for asking but... why do you care?"_

_The head tilt comes back. "How do you mean?"_

_The next sentence comes out in a rush; she regretted what she said even as she spoke._

"_I thought merfolk only cared about the sea."_

_He reacted exactly as she predicted. His face darkened even more, and he turned away from her._

"_That is what the tales tell you." He voice was low, angry. Aveline had touched a nerve and she didn't realise how badly the reaction would be. Fearing that she might have caused too much damage, she rises from her perch and makes her way down to his level. He doesn't look at her, but still she makes a point of sitting next to him on a rock nearby, awkwardly crossing her legs for balance._

"_Connor, I've upset you."_

_Thankfully, he shakes his head. _

"_No. I suppose..." He glances back to the direction of the harbour, a muscle tweaking in his jaw. "I care because my mother is a human. I have never seen her, but I do not forget her. Humans do such cruel things to each other. If I can stop any of it, I would always make the attempt."_

_It takes a lot for Aveline to process. Connor had a human mother? But how? It meant that she herself was not the first to interact with merfolk, but she had already assumed that. This was more... incredible. _Personal._ Still, not that she could express any of that to him, he clearly found the subject difficult._

"_Where is your mother now?" He had used the present tense for her, surely that meant...?_

"_I do not know." _

"_So you are part human?"_

_He brightens at the suggestion, finally looking back to her. _

"_Yes, which why I carry a similar face and chest to your kind."_

_She can't help but let her gaze drift downwards to look at his torso. So far she's managed mostly to avoid it in their meetings together, but now it's become the subject it is all she can look at. The skin is smooth and shiny, his gills as she now found out made graceful arcs across the area where the ribs usually were. A blush creeps on her cheeks. God it was hard enough looking at him in the eyes. _

_Connor doesn't notice any of this however; he's taken her silence for thought. When he speaks, it snaps her out of her staring, making her feel awfully guilty for some reason._

"_My father..." he sucks in a huge breath, "he will not talk to me about her, he only tells me not to make the same mistakes he did. What those mistakes _are _though..."_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_It is no matter. I know nothing about you."_

_She is startled by his comment, and she leans back._

"_Me? I'm not half as interesting as _you_"_

_His lips twitch, "From your perspective" _

_Now for the first time Aveline looks away, uncomfortable. What is there to say to him about her? She was raised a killer. Sure, she killed only the evil and corrupt but still it wasn't something to talk readily about. And yet she felt as if she could. That she would answer any question he put to her._

"_You told me you were in an Order—but what about your life otherwise? Where are you from? Who is important to you in your life?"_

* * *

><p>It is one fluid movement as she vaults over and she makes but a whisper of noise as her feet touch the wooden deck. Quickly she hides behind a stack of barrels. The guards have not even noticed a change in the wind, let alone her. She would smirk if not for the fact that she doesn't know where Connor is or <em>how<em> he is. Waiting for the guard nearest to her to walk along up the starboard side, she peeks over a barrel and towards the mast. Her heart stills as she sees the stocks located in front of it, and what they hold captive. Hands hang utterly limp, the head drooping and from behind a long graceful swirl of blue emerges.

Aveline has to bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from crying out.

* * *

><p><em>No doubt about it. Even though Biddle was becoming an increasingly thorny issue, his corruption and influence digging deep into the heart of the Boston harbour, their conversations were becoming more individual. Drawing away from their target. It was a blessed sense of relief to the both of them, what with the weight of the pressure in catching Biddle building with every day (Faulkner's mild manner was starting to slip a little, she knew that much) but even still... Aveline was beginning to feel as there was something underneath their talk. Something... cozy.<em>

_And then she cut through to the quick one afternoon, because again, curiosity._

"_So merfolk and humans can be together?"_

_He lifts his head next to her. Perching side by side on the rocks was now an unspoken formality. "What is your meaning?"_

_She stumbled over the words. She already knew the answer she wanted, and she feels so foolish for pressing it. Yet for some reason, it would feel more... authentic, hearing it from him. _

"_They can... be intimate... and more..." She wrings her hands in the air, not wanting to finish her sentence. He looks more bewildered than ever before suddenly his eyebrows go up._

"_I- oh."_

_Aveline can't help but grin at the faint tinge of red lining along his cheeks, even though she's battling down her own sense of mortification._

"_You're embarrassed!" She teases._

"_I am not." He replies with his best imitation of his own stoicism. "You are." _

"_Well?"_

_He shrugs. "Yes. It is. I would not exist if it were not possible."_

"_Right. Yes. Of course."_

_Awkward is too gentle a term to describe the silence between them. Or at least Aveline thinks so. She's so distracted by what's just passed that she doesn't notice Connor looking at her wrists. She's been wearing her Assassin attire today, but the heat made her disregard the jacket, pushing her sleeves back and revealing her wrist blades. Only when he makes a move to touch the wrist closest to him does she notice and he pauses, a guilty look instantly on his face._

"_What?" she asks puzzled._

_He hesitates before indicating to them. "Are those _blades_?" _

"_Oh these? Yes." She lifts her arms towards the sun, twisting her wrists to show the mechanisms underneath. "Remember I told you about my Order? When you become fully initiated, you are presented with these."_

_She brings them down so they are level with his eye line. She flexes her wrists to release the catches and quick as lightning two thin but deadly blades appear. She flexes again to hide them once more and smiles. Connor looks at her with amazement. He grabs her wrist and gently turns it over once more. It takes a lot of effort not to react to the touch of his skin, the memories of the night he rescued her flooding back._

"_What is it?"She manages to say at last._

_His eyes flick to hers for a moment, "Just..." His voice seems far away, before he lets go of her wrist and turns his up. He stretches his fingers, just as Aveline had done moments before. What happens next takes her completely. Quick as the mechanism she harbours, a slice of white bone seemingly glides out of his skin, sliding neatly between his middle and index finger. It is as polished and sharp as the blades she keeps. _

_For a moment, she can't speak. But when she does, she smiles widely. She can't remember the last time she gave a genuine smile._

"_Looks as if we Assassins have worked with your kind before, Connor."_

_He gives her a shy smile in return, just a slight self-conscious twist of the mouth upwards, his eyes blinking. It causes her heart to thump heavily against her ribcage, and doesn't stop until long after they've parted._

* * *

><p>Oh god, he looks dead. He is so pale and comatose. How long had she been knocked out? She may have already run out of time. Doesn't mean she isn't going to stop what she's doing. Batting down her fear, she takes stock once more of the guards. Vaulting over a balcony with restraints was easy, the takedown of all three of them without raising alarm to the partygoers below was not so. Mercifully she spots a lamp a short distance away from where the guard closest to her patrols. Stealthily, she makes her way to a barrel nearest to him and tenses her muscles. The plan runs through her mind.<p>

* * *

><p><em>The sky was not as blue that day; the summer was hinting that it was about to draw to a close. Aveline was beginning to feel more foreboding about the Biddle situation now. Rumour had it he had carried out a particularly brutal execution of a family who owed him money, and neither of them had caught wind of it. Faulkner had been particularly harsh on her about that. He had apologised later, saying that he knew how hard the task Aveline had, given that she had to make sure she didn't get herself killed in the process like those before her, but still... the anger never left his voice.<em>

_She had been looking up at the clouds, thinking. She hadn't spoken past the information she had given Connor about Biddle. She didn't feel up to starting conversation._

_Seemingly, Connor wanted to break her moody pondering._

"_The longest I've tried is half a day."_

_She moves slightly. "What?"_

_He raises his arms and makes a show of examining himself. "I pull myself out of the water and see how long I can survive"_

"_Why?"_

"_Back in my grandfather's time, people used to openly try and catch us. I keep pushing my limits in case one day, I get captured as he told me. I think I have hit my limit though." _

_She raises an eyebrow. This was something she had been interested in learned from the moment she met Connor properly. Only she had not seemingly got round to asking. How intriguing that he brought it up now._

"_What happens if you are out of the water too long?"_

_Connor winces. "You dry out."_

"_You die?"_

"_Eventually. If you can get back to the water before you black out, recovery is instant from the first breath of the water, but if the damage is too permanent..." He doesn't need to go on._

"_Drying out sounds terrifying."_

_Connor inspects his arms again, which Aveline tries very hard not to look at. "My father thinks it's a futile thing to try and extend the limits of being out of the water."_

_Whenever he mentioned his father, his voice always sounded sad. She's squeezes his shoulder without even thinking about it. They both pause. It is a boundary crossed certainly, and both of them are suspended in that moment. Aveline quickly lets go though, looking at him with a confidence she can't really feel with pulse loud in her ears._

"_But how are we to know our limits if we don't start testing them?"_

* * *

><p>She advances stealthily from her barrel and jumps on top of the guard, her arms going around his neck, cutting off his air supply and his vocals. A kick to the knees brings him wordlessly to the ground and it's a matter of a couple of seconds before he's unconscious. His dullard companions still stare at their shoes. The party rocks on below. Connor isn't moving.<p>

She moves up towards the main mast and the other two. She stops at one barrel and identifies finally what she's smelt as she's made her way across here. It's gunpowder. Biddle's desire for celebration must have meant that the moved the supplies topside in order to prevent an unfortunate incident below. That explained the lack of lamps.

Well Aveline could do something with that, certainly. There was still enough oil to start a chain reaction. If she could swim away fast enough none would be the wiser.

She was going to do anything without rescuing Connor first, however.

* * *

><p><em>Biddle strikes again, this time killing a dozen people over supposed slights in gruesome fashions. Faulkner is unrelenting in his criticism. Aveline doesn't know what to say. She is oblivious on what to do next. Biddle seems to make no break in his plans. The chain of protection around him seems to strengthen, becoming more unbreakable. The only way she could get to him would be to literally jump into his hands. But that would do no good whatsoever. He'd torture her for information and dump her body in the sea like all the rest. <em>

_The hot weather has picked up again yet as they sit in their usual positions, none of them feel the joy it supposedly was meant to bring. Connor is in no heed for conversation once Aveline tells him of the murders and he is looking out to the sea, brooding._

_Aveline stares at him, unsure what to say. It was quite likely now that Biddle knew she had survived. Did he know about Connor? Had the reason why they had been able to watch him so closely was because he was biding his time for either of them? If that was the case, they were in much more danger than they realise. _

_And then there was Connor himself. What if they succeeded? Would he move with his family, as he said they wanted to do? The thought of not seeing him everyday... well, Aveline didn't know if she could take it. It was more than just Connor being a merman. She'd never been this close to someone, human or otherwise. Never before had she shared secrets or histories. Connor was as attentive with her words as she was to him, and it created a swirling feeling in her veins like never before. _

_She was going to miss him, his voice, and his words. Also his beautiful eyes and tail. Her eyes drop down to it. He has it completely out of the water today and it lies nearby her. Quietly she twists round to look at it more closely. She remembers how it felt the night he saved her, silky and sleek. She wonders if the sensation is still the same. Losing herself entirely, her fingers hover over the scales. _

_Suddenly he jerks so violently she almost topples off the rock. In an instant he's turned around to look at her, looking anxious or annoyed. Her hands fly back in a gesture of apology._

"_Sorry! I..." She doesn't know what to say, "Forgot myself."_

_His face softens but he looks incredulous. "Why..." he sounds uncertain, worried even,_

"_Your tail, it- it's beautiful." She could smack herself silly right now, what on earth was she thinking? Why did she always push his buttons like that? _

"_I'm so sorry, Connor. I should not have even—"_

"_You may, if you wish."_

_Her mouth hangs open for a moment before she closes it and looks at him earnestly. He nods, and she turns again to look at it. However, almost without her will she follows the line of it, back up to his chest and then back to his face. She hits his eyes and he is staring—_staring_ at her._

_The second nod he gives her is so slight, but she sees it instantly. She was looking for it, after all._

_She doesn't touch the scales. Rather her body unconsciously shifts towards him and her fingers rake his damp hair, making knots in his ponytail. It's his arms that wrap around her, his hands gripping at her. It's a single movement on both their parts and their mouths touch without hesitancy. She has never kissed anyone in this way before. It is wet, Connor's damp skin and hair press against her, wonderfully cool. A small shiver runs through her even though every sense is on fire. It's anticipation that makes her nervousness melt away as she tastes the saltwater on his rough lips. _

_They part naturally, faces just inches from each other. There is no need for words. Briefly she takes in his face up close before she kisses him again. The urgency is felt the more Aveline craves him, and he reciprocates, kissing her fiercely and his hands sliding to her waist—_

_And then it's over. Aveline opens her eyes to see Connor moving away, shaking his head and muttering to himself. _

"_This is a bad idea. My father— he warned me—"_

_Her breath turns to ice. Her heart plummets in her chest, heavy enough that it threatens to sink her and drown her in the shock. She feels like she's already in the motions and she takes in short breaths. She sits back, unable to speak. She only notices that Connor is gone when she sees the last flick of his tail. She jumps to her feet, angrily wiping her eyes._

"_Connor!" _

_Too late._

* * *

><p>She doesn't stop. She sweeps up the oil lamp and as soon as she is in range, swings with all the strength she can muster with her bound fingers. The glass and hot oil and metal make contact with the cheek of the second guard and he lets out a small wail before falling unconscious. The third guard hears it, but Aveline is already just a few strides away from him. She kicks him in the bollocks, bringing him to his knees before swinging her arms around again in a clumsy punch to the head. She hears a crack and the man is unconscious, but she's unsure who's broken what.<p>

She staggers a little, breathing hard. Her left hand is suddenly flaring with pain and blood is dripping from the chains. The thumping headache only steps it up a notch in the agony stakes, and spots dance in her vision.

She doesn't even hesitate to straighten up and run towards the main mast.

* * *

><p><em>She's miserable. Wretched. She kissed a mermaid and got hooked. It's every part what her father told her. Her heart has been knocked out of place and the weight of it drags her down. Connor is all she sees when she tries to sleep, and she constantly remembers his hands and his skin and the feel of it on her body.<em>

_Two days of this and she's been driven up the wall. She decides Biddle needs to die and Aveline has to do it soon. She knows the entirety of his schedule. He will be boarding his ship tonight, but not before he checks a warehouse nearby on his supplies of rum. She prepares to confront him that night, consequences be damned. Never mind that all the other Assassins before her met their end by attempting to do exactly the same thing, or that it's utterly impulsive and reckless. She needs to do something. She doesn't tell Faulkner. For all his complaints, she knows that the man would try and stop her. She apologizes to him mentally, as she leaves and tells him she is just going to do a little more surveillance. She remembers to take one last thing with her before she goes. A trifle now maybe. But still important to her. _

_The plan naturally goes all wrong. True to her suspicions, Biddle had been watching her like a hawk. As soon as she made to follow him from his secluded dock to the warehouse at sunset, he turned around and looked at her directly. Flanked as he was by three humongous men, she still made to fight, driving all her frustrations so that she rendered two of them senseless. However the third one unexpectedly grabs her by the neck and immobilises her, dragging her to the very edge of the water. The corners of her vision blur when a flash of blue then leaps out of the water, knocking the man sideways and freeing her._

_Turns out that Connor is as impulsive as she is._

_It all happens too fast, but somehow Biddle enters the fray. Aveline manages to get to him and twists his arm behind his back, keeping him still with a blade to his throat. Yet she looks ahead and horror rushes through her. Biddle's last man is holding Connor in precisely the same position and he looks petrified._

_Aveline lets a snarl escape through gritted teeth and Biddle laughs. _

"_Get that blade off my neck girl, or this monstrosity dies." _

_Connor shakes his head but Aveline already lets go of him knowing that there are probably more of Biddle's men waiting in the fray should she attempt anything. She hears him sigh, his fingers uncurling. Before she can move Biddle turns and grabs her by the hair. She feels the touch of a blade on her head._

"_Aveline!" _

"_And you—you make a move and I won't hesitate to cut her pretty head off." Biddle bellows, waving the knife briefly in his direction. His face twists in a savage delight as he looks Connor up and down. Aveline feels nauseous. _

"_Damn, I've waited years to see one of you lot again. This time I won't be so stupid and let you go." He chuckles to himself before nodding to the man holding him. "Lock him in the stocks."_

_Aveline reacts instinctively, thrashing in Biddle's grip. She only manages to shout "No!" before she is slammed into darkness. She wakes up on the deck of Biddle's ship with Agaté's voice in her head. _Her pounding head.

* * *

><p>She reaches him, whispering his name over and over. He doesn't respond. Aveline touches his skin and sees the cracks appearing. His scales are flaking off and he is hot to the touch, the first time Aveline has ever felt his skin like that. Her hands shake, Connor was long in the process of drying out.<p>

She doesn't know if merfolk have the conventional methods of life signs, but still she's too scared to check anyway. While her hands are still limited by the chains about her wrists she is still able to take a knife from one the guards and uses it to force open the lock. Dragging him out of the cursed contraption and looping her arms over his head and chest, she manages to pick him up. God, he is so heavy. A dead weight...

Her brain isn't thinking straight. All it does it make the connections between Connor and water. She had to get Connor into the water. So when she reaches the side of the ship and lurches both him and her overboard, she only recollects her danger of drowning when she collides with the water.

It is dark and cold, so cold. They sink from the moment of impact, and Aveline writhes with the force of it. The pressure is incredible in her brain, the pain of the concussion and the increasing depth as Connor's weight and that of her weapons drags them further. He's still not moving. She breathes out to try and relieve the excruciating torment of her head, but now she has to fight the urge to breathe in. Her thoughts go everywhere.

She can't be scared about drowning. It's over anyway. Connor's still not moving. She was too late. He's dead. He's _dead_. And she's going to drown and it is going to be awful. And it was her fault. If she hadn't—

She shuts her eyes against the darkness as her chest spasms for air. She prays she'll lose consciousness before she inhales too much water. She's in enough blinding pain and just wants it to end. They're still sinking. She opens her mouth against her own will and the water flows in, unrelenting. She tries to distance herself from her own process of dying, willing it to be over as her body tries to reject what is not air. She wanted to breathe. Wanted to breathe so badly.

She doesn't feel Connor's body twitch next to her. Doesn't feel him move suddenly, swimming out of her arms. She doesn't hear the string of curses that leave his mouth, nor feel his arms around her body, which is still fighting for air. Moments later, when she's on the brink of consciousness, that cold sea air hits her face and she realises what's happened. Her body reacts violently to the presence of oxygen, forcing the alien sea out of her lungs. Her mind goes blank and her head rolls back, darkness still threatening to take hold as her body becomes a battleground for air against water.

"Aveline!" His voice is hoarse, barely audible over her coughing and spluttering, but Aveline clings to the sound of it to pull her out of the dark. Her senses return. One arm is wrapped around her waist while his other hand is occupied with titling her head up above the waves, letting her access the blessed oxygen that was the night air. His tail flicks back and forth rapidly, keeping them afloat.

"You are mad!" His voice is uncontrollable with panic as he yells. He's holding her too tightly but she can't care about that. Moments pass and it's just her coughing up the last of the seawater, Connor's upper half is stock still in supporting her. As her breathing evens out, he lets go of her jaw, letting her head loll against his shoulder. She's suddenly exhausted, comforted by his collarbone pressing into her cheek. The cracks in his skin fade away as the water laps over them both.

Ugh, the sea. She is reminded of how damn freezing it is and shuts her eyes. Connor's skin is still flushed warm from his ordeal on the ship and she curls into it desperately. He picks up on the rattle of her breath as she tries to cope with the bitter temperature. His hand touches her forehead and she feels him recoil.

"You are far too cold... ridiculous human."

"Silly merman." She mumbles into his skin, burying her head into him and shivering. His hand slides down her arm, feeling for the chains around her wrists. Within a few moments they are off, sinking into the sea. He moves her arms, wrapping them around his body. He pauses for a moment before he slips something else off her wrist. Aveline opens her eyes to see Connor lift the bangle out of the water, his expression unreadable.

"You still..." He trails off, and Aveline fixes him a hard stare.

For a moment she lets him look at the bangle. Then her hand plucks it from him while the other comes up to cup his jaw. He doesn't flinch, his face softening as she turns it to face her. Her body is trembling from the chill but her voice is firm.

"Don't you ever take off like that again, not without explaining to me properly what's wrong."

Connor only raises his eyebrows, his hand touching her face in return.

"Do not recklessly put yourself in situations that have very high chances of getting you killed."

She nods, "Deal."

They kiss, lightly and softly, but it carries enough meaning. If it were not for the fact that Aveline was on the border of hypothermia and the both of them still reeling from the effects of suffocation, it would have been harder, deeper. A confirmation. More indicative of the fierce love they held and the fear of the situation that still lingered.

Connor broke off, "We need to get you out of the water."

"No, no, Biddle. Biddle first. We've not gotten ourselves nearly killed for nothing."

He looks dubious, before he nods; a sudden smile graces his features.

"You know what? I agree. Let's go _kill_ him."


End file.
